


Elevator Music

by LadyGreyWrites



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Meryll Frey, Office Party, One Shot, Trapped In Elevator, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 05:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14349027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGreyWrites/pseuds/LadyGreyWrites
Summary: just a little something to get the words flowing





	Elevator Music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueEyesBlueSkies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyesBlueSkies/gifts).



It was nearly 9 o'clock and he had done his duty. Office yule parties were not on the list of Tywin's top ten favourite thing to do, but it was one of those things that must be endured. Especially seeing how he was the President and CEO. He'd shown up, drank a cup of the mystery punch, exchanged a few pleasantries with the board members and navigated through an obstacle course of wide-eyed interns. Cersei was deep in conversation with Peter Baelish, and it seemed the perfect time to slip out. In fact, it was still early, he could take the elevator up to his office and finish up some work before he went home.

The mezzanine was packed with employees, dressed in their yule best - gaudy sequins and silk ties - and all just a little bit inebriated. Or a _lot_ inebriated, depending on the employee. Tywin made his way through the crowd, nodding in acknowledgement of yule greetings, and gritting his teeth after a particularly rousing back slap from Robert Baratheon, until he was able to climb the spiral stairs up to the second floor. 

The second floor was much less crowded, as long as he didn't go near the bar, which he had no intention of. He pressed the up button on the elevator and looked forward to the moment that the doors closed behind him, shutting him off from the noise and pointless revelry. It wasn't long before the doors opened, and Tywin stepped inside, swiped his security card and pressed the button for the 35th floor, where his personal offices were housed. And just as the doors started to close, a voice called out.

"Hold the elevator please!"

Tywin jabbed at the 'close door' button but he wasn't fast enough and a woman slipped through the doors just before they shut.

 

* * *

 

It had all started with a dare. Lauyrn was the sort of friend who could always find a way to get Meryll in trouble all while keeping her own hands perfectly clean. Meryll had been staring across the room at a certain distinguished business man when Lauyrn poked her in the side. "I don't get it," Lauyrn said, following Meryll's gaze. 

Meryll rolled her eyes. "I would hope not, the man's your  _uncle,_ Lauyrn."

"Still. If it was Jaime, I could understand. But Uncle Tywin? Meryll, he's positively ancient."

Meryll never expected Lauyrn to understand, and it didn't bother her anyway. There was just something about the man's arrogance, and the way he shut himself off from people. It was like a puzzle just begging to be solved. And Meryll found Tywin's craggy good looks much more appealing than Jaime's clean cut prince charming aesthetic anyway. "I can't help who I like, Lauyrn."

Meryll and Lauyrn watched as yet another intern in a too-short dress tottered over to Tywin in spiked heels. "Okay but are you ever going to do anything about it?" Lauyrn asked, wincing as the intern stumbled and managed to grab Tywin's arm on her way down. "Watch, here comes the famous Lannister dismissal..."

Tywin graciously helped the girl to her feet, and then turned around and began talking to Olenna Tyrell, the intern all but forgotten.

"And  _that_ is why I'm not going to do anything about it," Meryll said. "Lauyrn, he's Tywin fucking Lannister. Even _you_ are afraid to talk to him, and he's your family." 

Lauyrn grinned, and tilted her head toward the bottle in Meryll's hands. "Even after half a bottle of gin? C'mon, Meryll. I _dare you_."

Meryll glared at her friend. Lauyrn knew her well to enough to know that she never backed down from a dare. "Damn you, Lauryn," Meryll said, and took another swig from the bottle. 

"He's leaving, you better run," Lauyrn said, pointing up to the level above the mezzanine where Tywin's tall frame was just visible by the elevators.

Meryll swore under her breath and dashed up the stairs. She was going to need more alcohol to see this through. On the way past the bar, Meryll reached behind the counter and grabbed another bottle before running to the elevator.

 

* * *

"Oh, hi, Mr. Lannister!" the young woman said brightly, and took her place on the opposite wall from him as the elevator lurched upward. She didn't appear to have a security card, or at least made no move to use one.

"It's going up," he said, unable to think of any reason why she should be going to the same floor as him.

"That's alright, I'm just going to find a washroom on a different floor. The ladies room had a huge line up."

Tywin peered at the young woman, annoyed that someone was imposing on the solitude he had been anticipating. She was tall and slim, pretty but not beautiful, with dark hair and a too-round face. Her brown eyes were bright - too bright - which may have had something to do with the bottles of gin she was clutching - one in each hand. "Who are you?" he demanded to know.

She raised her eyebrows at his tone but answered politely. "I'm Meryll Frey, sir." 

One of Walder Frey's get. Tywin didn't recognize her but the godsdamned Freys were everywhere. Apparently, even working at Casterly Rock. "And where did you get those bottles?" he continued his interrogation. 

She glanced down as if noticing the bottles for the very first time. "These? From the bar, of course."

Tywin knew for a fact that his bartender wasn't just handing out full bottles of top shelf liquor. "Last I checked, the bar provided single drinks, not entire bottles. Did you steal those, girl?" 

The Frey girl gave him a look of disbelief. "It's an open bar .. ?"

The _impertinence_. "You're fired," he said, already planning on calling security the second the elevator reached the 35th floor. 

Her bright smile was gone now, her brow furrowed in annoyance. "Look," she started, "the bartender gave me the first bottle after I told him it was that or he give me 17 shot glasses of gin, because that's how many shots are in a bottle." Her lips twisted into an impish smile, improving her looks tenfold. "But I grabbed the second bottle when he wasn't looking. This one's almost empty," she said, holding up one of the bottles. "Want some?"

"No," he said flatly.

She shrugged. "I can open the new bottle if it's germs you're worried a-" She was interrupted by a scraping noise, the elevator gears screeching, and then finally coming to a halt.

"What in-," she started, and then the lights went out.

"Good gods," Tywin swore and felt around in the dark for the elevator panel. Feeling the buttons under his fingers, he started pressing them with no heed to which buttons they actually were.  _Nothing._ Then there was a low hum, and a dim light came on.

"Emergency lights," the Frey girl explained needlessly.

Tywin hit the call button on the control panel but nothing happened. He swore again. The girl pulled out her cellphone and peered at the screen for a moment before putting it back in her pocket. "No signal."

Tywin groaned.

" _Now_ do you want some gin?" she asked cheekily.

"No." 

 

* * *

 

Meryll slid down the wall of the elevator until she was seated on the floor. "May as well just wait. Someone will try the elevator before long and realize it's not working."

Tywin gave her an imperious look. "From my experience, sitting around and waiting for someone  _else_ to fix a problem does not usually end in a positive outcome."

Meryll watched as Tywin stretched his long arms up and tried to reach the ceiling panel of the elevator. He jumped, trying to find purchase with his fingertips, but to no avail. He was certainly still athletic for his age, she couldn't help thinking. Broad shouldered and leanly built, the man was made to wear a suit. He had none of the extra belly fat that was so common in men his age, and he was barely even breathing hard from his efforts. His emerald green eyes were glinting with annoyance, but in all honesty, it only made him more attractive.

Meryll sat back to enjoy the show. It wasn't exactly what she had planned when she had run after Tywin, but .. _actually, she hadn't really had a plan at all_.

Before long, he turned to her with an indignant look. "Don't just sit there, get up and help me."

Meryll had nearly polished off the first bottle of gin, and was slow to rise to her feet, grabbing the railing for assistance as she stood. 

"If you climb onto my shoulders, you should be able to push the panel open," he said, crouching down.

 _As tempting as it was..._ "I can barely stand, never mind balance on your shoulders," Meryll said, not moving from her corner. "And even if we can open the panel, then what? You're going to climb the cables up to the next floor?"

He put an impressive amount of force behind the glare he offered her. No words to accompany though, which made her think that he knew she was right.

 

* * *

 

As infuriating as it was, the girl had a point. Tywin took a seat on the floor in defeat. How long had it been anyway? He glanced at his watch. Less than 15 minutes. Likely the whole building had experienced a power outage, he thought. Surely there was some sort of procedure in place for such a thing. And checking the elevators must be one of the steps?

"It's freezing in here," the Frey girl complained, interrupting his thoughts. She had joined him on the elevator floor, and was huddled in her corner. Though she wasn't as ridiculously dressed as some of the other young women at the party, the thin straps of her black dress offered little coverage, and her legs were bare, as seemed to be the fashion these days. He remembered a more civilized time when a woman would not step out of the house without wearing hose of some sort.

"You're hardly dressed for the winter," he commented blandly.

"I had assumed that Casterly Rock could afford to heat their offices."

He gave her a withering look. She tipped back the bottle of gin and finished off whatever was left of it. "A gentleman would offer his jacket," she said coyly.

"How unfortunate you aren't trapped in an elevator with a gentleman, then," was his swift retort.

She granted him a few blessed moments of silence after that. And then-

"Want to play a game?" she asked. 

"No," he said firmly.

She tipped the bottle on its side and gave it an experimental spin. "How about spin the bottle?"

Tywin sighed. "Absolutely not."

"Oh come on, Tywin, there's nothing else to do," she said, a teasing grin on her face. She had the typical features of the Freys - the pale skin and freckles, the eyes a little too close together - but when she smiled, she was almost attractive. 

Even so, her familiarity irked him. "You'll address me as Mr. Lannister," he found himself saying, though he felt like a foolish old man the second the words left his mouth.

She spun the bottle again and they both watched it turn until it slowed and finally stopped, the mouth of the bottle pointing to the elevator door.

"Aren't you supposed to have more people - a circle of foolish, wanton teenagers?" he asked, unsure of why he was continuing the conversation. She giggled like a child, causing him to turn and give her a questioning look.

"You said  _wanton,_ " she explained, her eyes reduced to little half moons from all her smiling.  _Gods she was drunk._ She wasn't a small girl, but still, an entire bottle of gin to herself?

Tywin ignored her. "It would hardly be a game with only two people."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you kidding?" she asked incredulously. "A positive outcome is practically guaranteed. I like my chances." 

Tywin had only a moment to wonder if the young woman was actually  _flirting_ with him before she spun the bottle again. He watched it almost with dread this time. It slowed and came to a stop, pointing at the corner to his left. 

"We have to round to the nearest person," she said logically, "so clearly it's pointing at you."

He sat somewhat in horror as she drunkenly crawled across the elevator floor. She wasn't going to actually...

She _did_.

She wasn't quite _in_ his lap, but crouched in front of him as she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. Tywin didn't move an inch. He sat perfectly still, his lips pressed together, not giving the girl the satisfaction of any sort of reaction. He simmered with rage. Who was this girl, to think that she could just drunkenly kiss some man she barely even knew, to think that she could kiss  _him_  and not suffer some sort of consequences.

But she seemed intent on pushing him past his limits, and was either too stupid to notice his outrage or simply didn't care. And then she had the  _audacity_   to touch her tongue to his lips. He nearly snarled in response to the warm glide of her tongue on his mouth, and in the baring of his teeth, his lips parted and he gave her exactly the opening she had no doubt been looking for. Her lips pressed to his with new fervour then, that small pink tongue plunging into his mouth. _Seven hells_.

He kissed her back. 

She seemed encouraged by the reciprocation and did end up in his lap then and for whatever reason he ended up burying his hands in her thick waves of hair. It allowed him to take control of the situation, he reasoned as he used his grip on her hair to hold her still so he could kiss her properly. His mind was reeling. He hadn't so much as even  _thought_ about something as mundane as kissing for  _years._ And here he was, stuck in an elevator, kissing a woman half his age. And  _enjoying_ it. 

That realization was enough to kill the mood.

"Enough," he said after he tore his face from hers and pushed her firmly off of his lap.

The Frey girl leaned back against the wall of the elevator, breathless and looking dizzy. She was going to be in rough shape in the morning, he thought dispassionately. And she would deserve every bit of it. 

"You're fired," Tywin muttered from his place beside her. She burst out laughing.

"You already fired me. You can't fire me again," she said with a lilting tone, her words slightly slurred.

"I just did," he said, deadpan. 

"Actually, you can't fire me at all, because I don't actually work for you," she said. He turned to face her, brow raised. "I was just Lauyrn's date for the party," she explained. "I don't work at Casterly Rock."

His green eyes narrowed. "Lauyrn's date?" he repeated and was silent for a time. The girl had closed her eyes, her face gone slack. Maybe she had actually passed out. He glanced at his watch again. They had been in the gods forsaken elevator for nearly 40 minutes, he thought, muscles tensing. Why was no one getting them out? He could almost feel his blood pressure rising. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the wall and let out a long exhale. There was no use in getting worked up about it. Someone would find them eventually, he reasoned. He reached for the second bottle of gin and took a swig. Not long after, he found himself humming tunelessly until the notes rearranged themselves into a familiar melody. Then he heard the answering phrase echo back from beside him.

" _Vorrei e non vorrei_ ," the Frey girl sang, " _Mi trema un poco il cor_." And could the girl  _sing._

Tywin's eyes popped open and he turn toward her. He had been humming the duet from Mozart's Don Giovanni where the title character, a lecherous old man, is trying to seduce the young and innocent Zerlina away from her betrothed.  _How fitting_ , Tywin thought darkly. Still, he hadn't expected someone of her age, and a Frey no less, to have such cultured tastes. "How do you know that song?" he demanded. "And what did you say your name was?"

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "It's Meryll. And I sang Zerlina in King College's production of Don Giovanni during my undergrad." That charming grin brightened her face once more. "Do go on," she encouraged him, "I believe your line is next."

"Certainly not," Tywin said with some distaste. He could carry a tune well enough, it was true, but he wasn't about to rumble along with a trained opera singer. "Sing me something," he ordered, the words coming out harsher than he had intended.

For a moment, she seemed about to refuse, but then she shrugged, relaxed back against the wall and began to sing. It was another song he recognized, a sad song of love and loss, and her velvety mezzo soprano voice seemed to bring out the mourning and longing of the lyrics. Tywin knew enough High Valyrian to make out a rough translation of the words.  _My beloved, my dearest heart, return to me as I weep._ And somehow her haunting tones brought forth dusty old memories of his own lost love, things he hadn't dare think about for what seemed a lifetime. He drank more of the gin.

When she finished the song, she met his eyes with hesitance, looking almost shy for the first time that evening. Perhaps she was finally sobering up. 

"I'm hiring you," he decided. "You'll sing at our next charity gala."

 

* * *

 

Performing for her captive audience had brought clarity to Meryll's thoughts, allowing her to focus despite the alcohol buzzing through her veins. The performance had been a somber one, and she sensed she had invoked something in Tywin, brought forth something that maybe wasn't so desirable for him. Even so, it didn't take him long to return to his usual commanding nature. The man was absolutely _insufferable_.

"You can't hire me now, you've fired me twice already," Meryll reminded him. 

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged in dismissal. "You said you never worked for me to begin with. So now you do."

Tywin Lannister said it, and it was so.

"Well.. alright then," she said, positively beaming. Not only had she fulfilled the dare, she had drunkenly kissed Tywin Lannister, and landed a gig with Casterly Rock. And Lauryn was always saying she needed to cut back on the gin. 

Meryll jumped at a sudden pounding on the door.

"Mr. Lannister?" a voice called. "We're getting you out. Just had to replace a fuse in the breaker room." And finally the doors were pried open, and three men in navy blue coveralls peered inside the elevator. 

Meryll struggled to her feet, tugging her dress down. She glanced back to see Tywin standing as well, the empty bottles of gin lying on the floor around them. Tywin stepped past her, and the three workers quickly cleared the way for him to exit the elevator. 

"Please see that Ms. Frey is escorted out of the building," he said to the nearest man. 

"Of course," the worker said, and offered Meryll a hand. "Do you have a coat, ma'am?" She was about to answer when Tywin suddenly turned and shrugged out of his suit jacket. 

"Take mine," he said, leaving no room for refusal. "It's cold, after all." Meryll took the jacket and clutched it to her chest.

"The elevators are working now, Mr. Lannister if you're heading down to the parkade," one of the men said.

"Oh no," Tywin grumbled. "I'll be taking the stairs."

 


End file.
